Lost in The Dark
by tigers-snipers-and-rifles
Summary: Castiel is attacked and slips into a coma, leaving Dean fretting for his life. {Destiel}


The first day could be classified as what you would call torture. It had been one of the longest days of Dean Winchester's life, in all honesty. Why he had trusted Cas to go off alone was beyond him. Sam and himself had received sincere wounds, but Castiel...

Demon catching was their job. And they had failed this one, had failed Cas, and for that one fact, Dean despised himself. It had proved difficult and the two brothers were more than sure they had a new type of demon on their hands, not to mention an extremely dangerous and deadly one. Sam had urged him to join him in finding it, but Dean was having none of it, not now, not when he was needed.

One month in and the demon was still running loose. It was hard enough knowing whatever had harmed his friend was roaming the streets, ready to make its next move and proceed with what it meant to finish. Why else would it have left Castiel in such a bad form if not to kill him?

One month in was nothing compared to eight months. Cas remained broken, whilst his attacker was likely out there somewhere, killing others in the meantime. Dean could barely live with himself after allowing the bastard such an easy escape.

He sat by the bed, watching the angel lie there paralysed and enable of moving, speaking, anything. It pained him to see Cas in such a state. The coma had swallowed him down into darkness and his progress had slackened as of late. Dean was just waiting for the day the coma decided to spit their bait back out again, yet that was what he feared would never happen.

The doctors claimed Cas could hear what was happening within his surroundings. Too many times to count had Sam or a nurse or doctor walked in on Dean talking to the angel. His china blue eyes stared at the ceiling, but he did not see, nor blink. They were like glass; lifelike eyes you'd see on a porcelain doll. The attacker had certainly used Cas as if he were a rag doll or their own personal punching bag. Scars and faint bruises littered his face and chest, reminding Dean every time what had happened and making him sick until he could not look at him anymore.

He heard him though, or so Dean believed, albeit that was enough for him to hope he would be brought to good health once more. Reassuring Cas that everything would be all right was enough to reassure himself too.

"Dean."

He glanced up from Castiel's broken body to find his brother in the doorway. Sam gave him the same look of concern he did every day he came to the hospital. "I brought you some pie." He sent him a small smile and showed him the package containing it before crossing the room and setting it in front of him. "It's not cake this time."

Dean's gaze once again fell on Cas as he watched the steady rises and falls of his chest when he breathed.

"You should get some sleep," Sam muttered, his tone laced with worry. "You're a wreck, Dean."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," he protested. "Cas isn't gonna go anywhere. The doctors will look after him. But you need to go home for a few days maybe, get back into a proper sleeping routine. All this staying up won't do you any good. Cas is okay."

"Cas is _not_ okay, Sam," Dean retorted angrily. "He's been in a bloody coma for _eight_ months, or had you forgotten? How is that okay?!" He shouted then, his annoyance getting the better of him. Sam left with a look of defeat, just like he always did. Dean was prone to get angry at him and he honestly hated fighting with his little brother, but he snapped at him constantly now and it was wise to keep a distance from him, which the doctors and nurses had seen to. They only ever bothered him when checking Cas' status, feeding him, bathing him and emptying the urinal bag.

Sam refused to show up in the next few days. He was giving him space, Dean knew. Yet he needed Sam. He was his family as well as Cas. And it was his fault he had broken it. When he did show up, however, it was only to check up on everything. Again Sam pestered him about sleep and again Dean shouted which only led to an argument. It was a nurse that found them fighting just as he landed a hard punch across the other man's nose.

After that, Sam didn't turn up for weeks.

"I've blown everything, haven't I?" he muttered aloud, half to himself and half to the angel. Dean buried his face in his hands with a fed up groan. This was tedious. He needed sleep, he needed Sam, he needed Cas to get better, but in reality he was unsure what he _really_ needed. Endless questions with no answers. "You're gonna be grand, Cas. You'll wake up and everything will be back to normal, right?"

Cas never stirred.

His eyes seemed to say: _Nothing has ever been normal, Dean, don't kid yourself_.

And somehow he was right. If Cas could talk, he would know what to say. He always did. Sometimes Dean prayed to him, wondering if the angel could hear. Perhaps if he could not hear him when he spoke out loud, then there was a possibility he could hear his prayers. Dean would dwell on that thought more often than nought. It was nice to have some sort of hope, one that he believed was true. It assured him.

When Sam once again returned, he was careful with his words this time. "How is he?" he questioned, crossing to the opposite side of the bed and staring down at Castiel with a thoughtful frown.

"The same." Dean hated those two small words, but he could not lie, no matter how much he wanted to. Lying to Sam meant lying to himself.

His brother nodded to show he had heard. Silence fell between them and for a long time neither of them said a word. Surprisingly, Dean was first to speak; "What about Cas' attacker?" he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer once the question left his lips.

"It's attacked others as far as we know. Bobby helped track it back to an unused gas station near Raytown that has been abandoned for over twenty years," Sam responded carefully. Bobby had agreed to accompany him in the search for the demon after Dean had refused. "We were uncertain at first, but get this: I tried looking it up with not very great detailed reports so asked a few people who lived in the area. Turns out there was a gas leak that exploded and destroyed the building, including the small cottage the owner lived in. We think the demon and owner may be connected."

Dean listened closely, taking everything in word for word. He never gave a reply, however, his gaze remained on Cas. Sam continued, "It would explain why Cas suffered the burn wounds. It's happened to others too, apparently. This demon has been going around burning people and their homes. It makes sense and everything is connected. We just have to find out what it wants and why it's doing this."

"It wants Cas," Dean mumbled, his voice almost inaudible. He was positive he was correct on the matter. Sam caught the quiet words all the same and frowned. "It wants vengeance, maybe." Sam considered the other's words for a moment or two before adding his own voice:

"Cas might know something we don't.."

"Then why don't you ask him, huh?" Dean snapped. "Let's see what he has to say."

"Dean, I didn't m-"

"No, no you're right," Dean interrupted and abruptly stood. "Maybe Cas does know something, so surely by some miracle he'll wake now and tell you." He turned to the angel. Castiel stayed still, his eyes unblinking.

"You know I never meant it like that." Sam argued and exchanged a dark look with Dean.

"And I never meant for you to be my brother."

Silence.

Sam paused, looking up at Dean with a hurt expression as if to ask if he had meant it. When no answer followed, he fled the room. Dean went to follow, to apologise, but his legs failed him. He stared at the door, as if he believed Sam would come back. _Now you did it_. He sat, shakily running a hand through his hair with a sigh. "What have I done?" he whispered, his voice thick with despair.

Sam was gone for weeks.

"I cannot do anything right," Dean told Cas one day as his coma edged toward eleven months. _Nearly a year_. That was hard to believe. It felt like yesterday had been the day Cas was attacked and knocked unconscious. The coma had taken to him badly. The angel had lost a lot of weight in the past few months and his hair was patchy and sometimes a few dark strands would come out onto the pillow. Some had even taken on a grey colour. His complexion was paler than normal and overall he looked horrible.

Sleep had been something Dean could not find himself enjoying for months now. When he slept, he had nightmares, but when he was awake, it was just as bad. Sleep or no sleep, he felt awful either way, especially with the thought of what he had said to Sam and not having been there to help Cas.

A nurse found him the next morning curled up on the armchair. She tapped his shoulder gently which was enough to make him jolt awake with a gasp. Sweat plastered the hair to his forehead and it took him a minute to recognise his surroundings. "Mr. Winchester?" the nurse asked in a pleasant tone. She was pretty, with a comely face and blonde curls that reached her shoulders. If Dean had not anything to worry about, he might have attempted to flirt with her. "Dr. Barnes would like a word."

Dean rubbed at his sleep filled eyes and glanced to where the nurse had motioned. He caught a glimpse of the doctor outside the door and pushed himself to his feet. No doubt he looked just as bad as Cas, maybe even more so, but Dean did not care about his appearance in that moment. He was hoping for good news when he exited the room, the nurse following. She turned to go the opposite direction to give them privacy as Dean confronted the doctor. All hope left his eyes the instant he saw the look on the man's face. "Doctor." He greeted, swallowing his nerves and sparing a glance at Castiel through the shutters.

"Mr. Winchester," the doctor started, remorse in his tone. He paused for a couple of seconds, but to Dean those seconds felt like hours. "We fear your friend may not make it."

Those words were like knives. The next he knew, he was pacing the room with his mobile to his ear for the fifth time, trying to get through to Sam. He had not seen nor talked to him in weeks. And for the fifth time, it went through to voicemail. This time he left a message; "Look, Sam, I'm sorry for everything, for what I said, for being an ass, but I need you. I... I don't know what to do. I need you, Cas needs you, now more than ever. _Please_... please come over." He hung up and gripped the phone tightly before aiming it at the wall in a fit of anger.

Sam found him on the floor hours later. He never heard him enter, never noticed the arms moving round him, but somehow Dean was hugging him back. He was aware of a voice, Sam's most likely, yet he did not acknowledge it. The room was spinning, Sam's words were slowly becoming quieter before he left the room and all went black.

He woke to more voices swarming around him like wasps. "The shock, is all." a woman was saying. His eyes fluttered open and he grimaced in the sudden brightness of the room. Sam was by his side then, supporting him.

"Dean," he said, worried.

"Wha- What happened?" Something cold pressed against his forehead and he attempted to swat it away.

"It's all right. It's just ice," Sam assured him. "You passed out." Dean contemplated those words. He did not remember passing out, nor being moved to a bed.

"Cas," he abruptly sat up, but a hand pushed him back down. The nurse.

"You must rest." she advised, pressing a glass to his cracked lips. Dean drank thirstily, his throat dry and raw. He was grateful for the cold beverage. When done he collapsed back against the pillow and in an instant was asleep. When he woke for the second time, it was morning. Sam lay asleep in one of the chairs, his head resting atop his hand. He stirred at the sound of movement and opened his eyes to find Dean climbing out of the bed.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded, standing to force him back under the covers. Dean shoved his hands away and ventured out the room down the hall. He glanced to see what floor and ward he was on and headed toward the correct room, Sam hot on his heels. The taller man caught up and grabbed his arm, spinning him round to face him. "Are you crazy?"

"Maybe." Dean yanked his arm away and continued walking. Sam followed. Upon reaching his destination, he swung the door open and stopped dead, his eyes falling on the bed. It was empty. "Where is he?" he rounded on the other, half choking on his words. "Where is Cas?!" he shouted.

"They've moved him," Sam sighed and gave him a warning look to keep quiet. It made no matter, however. Dean's shout had already attracted the Dr. Barnes. Sam turned to face him with an awkward smile, whilst Dean stood there, bewildered. _Why have they moved him?_ he wanted to ask. Why had he not been told?

"You should not be out of bed, Mr. Winchester," he addressed Dean with a raised, curious brow. "We would not want you fainting again." the doctor gave Sam a curious look as if to ask why he had not stopped his brother.

"I'm fine," Dean lied. "I want to see Castiel."

Sam and the doctor exchanged a long look. Finally he was given consent and led the way. Dean followed, ignoring the pounding in his head. By the time they reached the room, it was hard to think straight. Dean entered and found a position beside the bed. The doctor muttered a few words and left them alone. Sam stood beside him, his eyes falling on his brother. "They told me." he admitted quietly.

Dean looked up at him. He was silent for a long time, lost for words. "They can't turn off his life support, Sammy, they just can't."

Sam sighed. Dean looked wounded. "The doctor says there's no hope for him."

He came later that day with two nurses on his trail. Sam looked to Dean then to the doctor and nodded. He never saw the glance. His eyes were on Cas as he watched the angel. He gripped his cold hand, aware of the nurses moving around him. Cas became a blur. It was then he realised he was crying and tightened the clasp on Cas' hand. The heart monitor was deafening. Dean refused to look at the screen as the line started to gradually thin out once they switched the life support off. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder for support, but he went unacknowledged. The beeping from the heart monitor rang in his ears.

Dean squeezed his hand and just as the line went straight, he could have sworn he felt Castiel squeeze back.


End file.
